Down in the Mud
by Marukanitel
Summary: Azog does a good deed. Set a few months before An Unexpected Journey.


Azog rarely hunted alone, but he needed some peace lately. It was less about bringing back game and more about taking a stroll in the woods.

It was late afternoon, he hadn't been able to find sleep and, given the cloudy, cold weather, decided to wander outside to clear his mind.

Over a century had passed since he had lost everything, yet he was barely getting back on his feet. Fortune had never quite smiled upon him. He was constantly beaten down to the ground. Whatever little thing he could acquire would be taken from him eventually. He felt as if he had no purpose. Getting revenge on the line of Durin didn't even seem that important anymore.

Thus he preferred spending time alone, the clan had no need for a chieftain without ambition. The Orcs of Moria only respected him because he was twice larger than them and they were easily intimidated. He only had to growl a bit louder for nobody to dare questioning his authority.

Lost in his usual grim thoughts, he walked through Mirkwood, weapon sheathed, barely paying attention to find preys. His white Warg, Daisy, who had carried him there, waited calmly by the edge of the forest. There were little to no dangers in these parts. Giant spiders, sometimes, but they wouldn't dare feasting upon an Orc as large as he was. They were smart creatures, they knew how to pick their fight.

Trailing amongst the dark trees, Azog soon caught a faint cry.

He listened carefully, trying to locate where it was coming from.

This was no wounded beast baying for an end to its suffering.

It was a child calling for help.

He bolted in the direction of the sound. Jumping over rocks and risen roots, avoiding low branches with lightning reflexes. He was a very fast and agile runner despite his heavy physique. Many fleeing assailants had underestimated his speed over the years.

The more he ran, the more the cries became louder. The terrain, littered with fallen leaves, soon turned into a muddy landscape and his nose picked up the scent of marshland. Surely there was a child in danger somewhere around these parts.

Orcs had a soft spot for kids, no matter the race. So much so that they had very firm laws forbidding the adoption of foreign whelps. They were not as charming once they grew up and they weakened the clan, unable to pull their own weight in their society.

Nevertheless, when they raided villages, they always spared children and also left a few adults alive to care for them. Not the same could be said when other races destroyed Orcish settlements. Their little ones were usually rounded up and burned alive. It would have been easy for them to take revenge upon the offspring of others, but barely any of their kind would hurt a child. Some, less scrupulous, might, but there were bad people both amongst his kin and amongst Men as well, it was not inherent to their nature. Most Orcs would usually ignore young ones, but Azog could never pass the occasion of helping one in need.

He soon discovered the source of the pleas.

In the cold bog, clinging to a low branch for dear life, was a little girl.

Only her face stuck out and still she kept sinking. Choking and spurting as mud got into her mouth as she begged for help. Her eyes swollen with tears, face livid with panic.

She could not be older than six or seven, Azog thought.

He approached slowly and she began to scream with renewed vigour.

He raised his only hand as a sign that he meant no harm while shushing her, "Calm down, little one. Don't struggle, it'll only make you sink faster. I'll get you out." he spoke as softly as possible, knowing his deep, commanding voice would fail to soothe the frightened child.

He breathed in relief when he saw the girl hush slightly.

She still eyed him with fear and apprehension, but she no longer screamed or moved. She just held on to the dark, twisted wood and whimpered.

Azog attempted to get closer, but as he was merely two metres away, his next step had his boot sinking deep into the swamp. He struggled to get it back out and grunted. He could not reach her without risking death as well.

However, he was not about to give up on the child.

Eyeing his surroundings, he picked up a big, sturdy branch close by and extended it to the girl who now had half of her face covered in mud, her little nose bubbling in the slimy water, "Grab it!" he growled, trying to get as close as possible. Stepping further and further in to reach her, barely noticing he was already knee-deep in the morass himself.

Finally the youngling, despite her fear and tired arms, was able to extend her little fingers to the offered bough and grabbed firmly.

"Hold on tight." Azog hissed between his fangs as he pulled her. His heart nearly dropped when her tiny hands slipped, but she quickly managed to grasp the stick again.

He painstakingly moved backwards, struggling to get his feet out of the cold, viscous mud. Praying the branch would not break and that the girl would not slip again, he dragged her towards him, pulling her closer.

As soon as she came within reach, he dropped everything to wrap his good arm around her miniature body and hauled her out of the marsh.

He then slowly waddled back onto safer ground.

Putting the girl down, she started crying again, shaking from having spent so long in the freezing mire.

Azog knelt before her, hushing her gently with a hug. He tried to lessen how threatening his appearance certainly was to such a tiny creature, "What's your name, little one?" he asked in a mild voice, caressing her dark brown hair, squeezing the sludge out of her lovely pigtails.

The child sobbed, but hugged back, enticed by how warm the colossal monster was. She knew they were dangerous, her parents had told her countless times that Orcs would come and eat her if she didn't behave. But this one had helped her, she knew very well she would have sunk to the bottom and no one would have ever found her again. She did not entirely realize what death was yet, but she knew she had put herself in great danger by playing too far in the forest. The marsh seemed a lot more menacing than her saviour now.

She sniffled, "Rose." came her shy reply.

The Orc smiled, locking his silver eyes to her hazel ones as he brushed tears away from her dirty cheeks.

The little girl recoiled a bit and he instantly realized his fangs surely scared her.

He cleared his throat, trying to look as affable as can be, which was nigh impossible for his kind, "Rose. That's a lovely name for a lovely little girl. Mine is Azog. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Do you live in the village nearby?" he inquired, wiping mud off her face as the child nodded, head hung low as if she was about to get in trouble.

He lifted her off her feet, holding her against his chest.

She soon wrapped her delicate arms around his thick neck, unable to circle it with them.

Azog smiled, he had not been in contact with a child in a long time, "I'll walk you as close as I can get." he purred, hoping she would not mistake it for a growl, but seeing how she nuzzled her face against his scarred cheek, he knew she was alright now.

"You remind me of my eldest daughter." he chuckled despite the sudden sadness brought by her memory. Little Nagir had died way too soon. She was around the girl's age when war cruelly took her from him.

Rose pouted, remarkably aware of his pain. She dared not ask questions, just hugged her unlikely saviour closer, only to be rewarded with more purring. She giggled, "You're like our cat, you make the same sound."

Azog laughed as well, trying not to bare his fangs in the child's presence, before doing his best meowing impression. Orcs had felines around to control pests, but they were feral, never used as pets. Rose comparing him to her companion was a good thing, he thought. It meant she felt safe with him, that she knew he was friendly.

They soon neared the village.

Knowing he could go no further lest he'd be shot at, he put the girl on the ground, kneeling before her. Still trying to get some caked mud off her little face, instincts kicked in, no matter how hard he tried to suppress them, and he gave her cheek a big lick.

Rose squirmed and laughed, "No! It tickles!"

Encouraged, he cleaned her face and hands with his tongue, careful not to put too much pressure on her fragile skin, rasp as it was, he knew it would hurt if he wasn't extremely gentle. Her clothes would need to be washed with water, getting muck off her exposed bits was the best he could do. He smiled to see her face all cleaned up, she was adorable.

"There. Now get back home and take a warm bath."

The little girl nodded before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him one last time.

Azog purred, his scourged chest rumbling, holding her against him. Tears of happiness welled in his eyes, "Be careful next time you play in the woods. And never go near Orcs. Just because I was nice to you doesn't mean others will be. Alright?"

Rose nodded, holding his big face with her tiny hands, "Thank you." she planted a kiss to his blunt snout before running off.

Azog stared at her until she disappeared beyond the village's gates. He sighed. How he missed his precious daughters.

He wiped the mud left on him and headed back into the woods.

Deeper amongst the trees, a sudden shadow caught his attention. A strange, dark power lingered around. A faint whisper crept between the branches, both maddening and enticing at the same time.

Azog shuddered, feeling engulfed by an otherworldly presence.

His feet carried him as if by their own accord, drawn towards this commanding blackness. He trailed through Mirkwood as if in a dream. It wasn't long before the moving gloom had lured him to Dol Guldur.

Swallowing hard, he entered the abandoned fortress despite the growing reticence within his uneasy heart.


End file.
